Jaesi Vulte: The Will of the Seven
by maonsie
Summary: Like fire, R'hllor's influence spread across the lands of Westeros. And in the year of our lords 352, High Septon Gregorious IV has enacted what no Council of the Faith has done before. The necessity for war has never been stronger. And united behind a single cause, the lords and people of the realm join for that one purpose. Jaesi Vulte. Gods Will It.
1. Prologue

**Jaesi Vulte**

_The Will of the Seven_

* * *

_The Year of Our Lords 25.7.__352 AC_

Word had spread through the city that the High Septon would be speaking. It wasn't unheard of, but without warning, the interest drew many and the square outside Baelor's Sept filled with many curious to the event. Gold Cloaks already stood the line before those closest to the steps up to the Citadel of the Faith. More and more poured into the square, murmuring and questioning what was happening. The sound of the heavy doors opening brought many in the crowd to revered silence. And the sound of the Gold Cloaks slamming shield and pike into the ground brought the rest.

In a simple robe of red, with white and silver details, the High Septon began speaking, his voice easily travelling across the many waiting ears of the people.

"Brothers, and sisters, of the Faith. It is troubling time we live in. Troubling enough that I have convened the Council of Seven to find a solution to this... This _heresy_ that spreads like fire across our great kingdom! You all know of what I speak - you all have seen the fires lit at night. In our streets in the late hours of our nights. We have lived for a over a thousand years in peace with our brothers and sisters of the North. And the Gods they worship are not unknown to us. They are not to be feared. They are like ours, ancient and benevolent and revered by all.

"But now, these heretics from across the sea - from the lands upon which our Gods lay claim - dare say that their God is the one true god? They dare to say that we must pray to their God? They dare to say that our trust in the Seven above is a lie?"

From behind the speaker, a column of armoured soldiers walked from the gate. All of them garbed in surcoats bearing the seven-pointed star of the Faith. Tower shields raised and pikes at the ready in their hands.

"No, I say! No! Their God... Their _R'hllor_ is no god of mine, brothers and sisters!"

Another group of men-at-arms erupted through the gate, these men mounted on their armoured destriers. And once again, shield were painted silver with the red star of the Faith blazoned upon them. They formed up on the flanks of the men before them.

"Here is what I say! Here is my answer to those of the false God. These heretics are a scourge upon this Earth! With the guidance of the Father, and my fellow council of the Faith, I declare the heretics damned to the Seven Hells!

"I declare the heretics cursed from all that is righteous and holy!

"I declare crusade upon the heretic!"

Many in the crowd began stirring at that. A crusade - that was not something ever done before, and many did not know what that was. However, all turned back to the gate to Baelor's Sept where seven knights rode out, these far more ornately armoured than any that had ridden out before. Steel armour, as silver as the cloaks upon their backs, and shields red with the star of the Faith upon them. Their horses barded with silver as well. All of their faces masked behind great helms, all of them different though. As though all seven were differing aspects of the Gods themselves.

"These are our champions! Seven that have been selected to lead this crusade upon the east! All of them blessed as they are by the Warrior! All of them ready to die to see the herectic expunged!

"I call upon his majesty, King Balaerys of the most revered and sacred house Targaryen, to answer the will of the Seven!

"I call upon the lords of the realms, from the Northern bluffs to the Dornish marches, to answer the will of the Seven!

"I call upon the common man and woman and child to answer the will of the Seven!

"All to serve in their name, and bring salvation upon the heretic! The heathen! The most unholy blasphemour!"

"Brothers and sisters of our Faith, listen now! _Jaesi vulte_! _Jaesi vulte_!"

The High Septon repeated the phrase in High Valyrian, drawing his fellow men of the Faith into it. And within moments, the soldiers slammed spear and pike to shield, chanting alongside them, growing in sound.

"_Jaesi vulte_! _Jaesi vulte_!"

All through the crowd, men and women began to pick up the chant as the soldiers repeated the High Septon and his coucil. The sound of the cry picking up in the square.

"_Jaesi vulte_! _Jaesi vulte_!"

The phrase itself was simple enough to understand, and with the crowd ill at-ease with their new neighbours, it held power.

_Gods will it._

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**A/N**: Considering how relatively barren the Valyrian dictionary is, I fudged and made up something akin to _Deus Vult_, Latin for God wills it, and famously attributed to the launching of the first crusade in 1095 by Pope Urban II. I've had this idea floating around my head for a while.

As always, leave a review, or comment, they mean a lot. But most importantly, enjoy the story. :)

_Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, etc from the universe of George R.R Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series or HBO's Game of Thrones. I write this for myself and the enjoyment of others._


	2. Tyberios

**Tyberios**

* * *

It had not taken long for the first murders to occur following the High Septon's announcement. Emboldened by this new sense of piety and righteousness, the smallfolk were up in arms, knives and old rusted weapons from service during the war being the most common. Even the city guard of King's Landing - the Gold Cloaks - took it upon their office to assist the followers of the Faith in whatever means necessary. Hangings, stabbings, whatever way in which they could inflict punishment seemed reasonable. Ultimately that meant the involvement of the newly established Office of the Lord-Inquisitor and its holder, Lord Symon Coldwell. The King had also established a new office in response, one to keep balance to the High Septon's inquisitorial office; that of the Lord-Arbiter.

The duties of the Lord-Arbiter were similar to the Lord-Inquisitor. Both offices were permitted with the powers to arrest and try offenders for any violation of the King's law - and for now, the High Septon as well. The distinctions came from where they operated. It was the duty of the Lord-Arbiter to handle the nobility, and the higher echelons of society. Seeing as they had far more influence and such, it required a certain amount of composure and finesse. However, the office also came with quite an amount of power and respect. By all regards, he was the right hand of the King.

And as such, Tyberios Lannister was a curious man to have been appointed to that station. Being the second son of Tommen Lannister had seen that Tyberios went before the king's court early in life. And frequently, the simple fact that he was alive had been made known to him growing up. Learning that for a time his father had been king of Westeros had made Tyberios resent the Targaryens for deposing his father. But soon that passed, and he'd been privileged to serve as squire to Lord Edmund Baratheon, the rather young lord of Storm's End. Many had been surprised that the Baratheons continued to hold such a stronghold, but there were the rumours of the lord's birth. Illegitimacy borne of illegitimacy had had a tendency to become legitimate after the war had ended.

With many of the noble houses reduced in number, the political climate of Westeros had changed. King Aegon had been merciful in the end — his son had followed suit. It had seemed for a while that peace would return to the realm. However, the new problem in the realm had become that of the Gods. Growing up, Tyberios remembered the foreigners who flocked before the King, asking and demanding even the powers to worship R'hllor freely in the kingdoms. They had only ever grown in number, flowing into the kingdoms from across the Narrow Sea.

Over the years, Tyberios learned that even some lords had begun to embrace the Red God as their only god, but it never angered him for he had never been one to look at the Seven for help. He had never been one to put much trust in faith. However, he came to learn that the followers of this foreign religion seemed far more interested in the burning of people than anything else. A rather uncivilised manner of conversion. With the amount of followers of the Faith they put onto the pyre, it seemed that the actions of the Faith were inevitable.

And, almost a year ago, the King and his Hand had asked for the Lannister's presence, and he obliged them. He'd been selected for the newly created position of Lord-Arbiter; but not for his piety and reverence of the Seven as the Lannister had imagined the position would require. No, Tyberios Lannister was chosen for his level-minded head and composure, and his sense of moral justice over all else. He'd learned that lesson by growing up the son of a disgraced nobleman - a disgraced house. When he accepted the position, he'd thought to himself how ridiculous it had been. But that was always his brother's plate to handle; Tyberios had his own, and right now that consisted of his first true acts as Lord-Arbiter.

"Lord Percy Clearwater of Aldsbury, your majesty," the seneschal announced to the hall. "Stands accused of heresy, and treason against the crown in the sight of the Gods."

"Liar! I will not allow myself to be cast out as a traitor — as an enemy!" screamed Lord Clearwater, forced to his knees by two men-at-arms, chests proudly emblazoned with the Star of the Faith. "You all know me." There was naught but silence in return.

"You all know me!" the lord said even louder.

The lord looked around, most likely for sympathising eyes. For a moment, Tyberios feared that one of the many watching would open their mouth and speak friend, but instead, only silence continued to answer the lord's cries. From their faces, Tyberios recognised some courtiers who worshipped the Old Gods. A noble religion, and an old one, they had reason to be fearful with the escalation of evens, but the High Septon had made the words of the Seven clear. Those of the North were allies in this conflict against the Red God of the East, as too were the Ironborn though Tyberios suspected that was simply because they had never had the desire to spread their religion - it was one only of its people, and the Lannister held some respect for that.

The Clearwater tried for the king, "Your majesty, I beg you. Please have mercy."

Tyberios was not stood with the other courtiers, watching as the Lord of Clearwater Bay pleaded for his life. He was instead standing behind the accused, flanked by two other men-at-arms. He wore a surcoat, befit of his station and house, crimson with golden details. Regardless of his position, his loyalty was to the King first, not the High Septon as his men were.

The seven knights of the Kingsguard stood before the Iron Throne, hands on their swords. All of them young were with the exception of the Lord Commander, Jeremys Tyrell; and only he wore the cloak fastened to his right side. It was an intelligent show of force and told any who came across him that he was no fool with the blade. Though, seeing as he was a Tyrell and in the Kingsguard, there was quite a bit of arrogance and bravado in his display as well.

The king himself sat upon the throne, head resting on his arm. Aegon had lived a long life, dying recently and leaving a young man, only nineteen summers on him, sat upon the Iron Throne. Balaerys Targaryen - and he looked every bit a Targaryen except for his hair. Dark brown like his mother. But he was not naive, and had learned much in his few years under the tutelage of his father, and of course his Lord-Hand, Nevor Hightower. The man was everything the Hand of the King should be. He'd served Aegon well enough, even in his older age.

"The House of Clearwater has served the realm for a long time. Always loyal to the Iron Throne. Always willing to follow your bannerlord, House Velaryon, even against the most doubtful of odds," the king started, standing now. All seven of his Kingsguard drew their swords. A show of power; that was all it was. But it had the desired effect. Lord Clearwater dared not speak out in return. "However, my lord, even the most loyal and subservient of dogs, if diseased, if plagued, must be put down to protect the rest from vile infection."

While all the lords continued to focus on the king, Tyberios' eyes went to the armoured figure that had come through one of the rear passageways. So called the Champions, seven of these knights had been charged by the High Septon and the Council to see to the military campaign. The Lannister had never once been told about them; he was as shocked by their announcement as the rest of the people. But there was something about them that made him question their presence — or rather, their lack of one. They moved as though ghosts; never speaking, never eating, never sleeping. Or so Tyberios had gathered.

Each of these Champions bore one distinguishing characteristic: their helmets. It was an odd thing, but each of these armoured knights bore a distinct piece of headgear along with their immaculately polished armour. Steel seemed to be their make, or something else, but the one that had come in now was wearing an armet, white as the marble within Baelor's Sept. As though sensing the Lannister's continued observing, the armoured man turned and looked over in his direction. Tyberios returned his gaze to the sentencing, feeling a chill on his spine.

"I give you the choice, my lord. Under the sword, or upon the noose?" The king sat down as he finished speaking, yet his guards kept swords and shields raised. It was eerily silent in the great hall with not a lord or lady dare making a sound. "There is another choice of course. Seeing as how you've cast our Gods for your own, have him protect you. Trial by combat against one of the Faith's Champions. The choice is yours."

A quiet murmur filled the hall at that. And though he had time to decide, the lord came to a decision almost instantly.

"For over a century, my family has fought. If I must die, then I will die as a soldier. I will die by the sword. And the flame of R'hllor will cleanse me," the lord of Clearwater finished, holding his head up. Tyberios had to commend the man for finding some amount of peace in his answer, and to speak his god's name in the presence of the king so brazenly. He nodded to the two men-at-arms and they brought the lord to his feet.

"Very well. You will fight the morrow after next," the king said passively in response to that small show of bravado, waving has hand. Both of the soldiers bowed and took the prisoner back to his cell in the tower, departing the hall quietly. Tyberios bowed as well and returned with his own guards to stand amongst the courtiers out of respect. "Next matter of business then, seneschal. I do hope it is something more pleasant."

"Yes, your majesty," the servant said. He cleared his throat and announced to the hall, "I present Lord-Paramount Robb Arryn of the Vale."

Tyberios watched as the auburn haired boy stepped from the crowd on the other side of the hall. He looked every bit the Tully like his mother - yet there was also the subtlest hint of his father in his darker brown eyes and finer hair.

"Your majesty," the young Arryn lord said, kneeling with his guardsmen in tow. The silver direwolf beneath a white crescent moon adorned their shields. It had never been very common for houses to unite sigils, however, the war had changed things, and they were not the only house to have renewed themselves.

Raising his hand in a show of friendship, the king grinned, "Please, Robb, stand. I trust that Lady Arryn is doing well. It has been some time since we've had her company in the capital... since Lord Arryn passed away I believe, may the Seven watch over him."

"My lady mother has had quite a bit to be done in the Vale. But I will pass on your kind words to her, your majesty."

How very diplomatic — the Arryn had most likely learned how to speak in court from his mother. Tyberios had met Sansa on many occasions in the past, she'd been a frequent visitor to Storm's End during his time there under the custody of Lord Baratheon. She was always kind, but there was that hint of venom behind her teeth. Luckily, Tyberios had never found himself at odds with her.

Robb was her oldest son, named after her brother who had died during the war. Murdered was more the truth however. Many in the Stark family had met similar fates during those dark days, but it was towards the tail end of it all that her youngest brother, Rickon Stark, reclaimed Winterfell and proclaimed himself King in the North, casting out Stannis Baratheon. No-one had seen him in over fifty years. Tyberios doubted that the Baratheon had lived long after being forced from the Kingdoms.

In return for peace with the Iron Throne, Aegon requested that Sansa marry the young lord of the Vale. Rickon had demanded the Freys for justice to be done, and Aegon obliged him. House Mallister was given the Twins, and the North remained an independent kingdom now under the rule of Rickon's son, Brendon.

"Splendid. Now, how ever can the crown be of assistance, Lord Robb?" the king asked.

Along with a few of the courtiers, Tyberios chose now to depart the hall. Whatever it was that the Arryn lord had come for most likely did not concern him; his business was done in the great hall when his men took Lord Clearwater away. And now all that was left to do was draw some sort of confession out of him, in any way possible. He wouldn't be the last lord Tyberios would be seeing in such circumstances he feared.

* * *

**A/N**: And here we go! My convoluted backstory and history will hopefully piece itself together over time. I'm going off of established lore, however, I've quite obviously come to my own conclusions in a few things and made some blatant decisions in terms of endgames.

firebird324, magnus374 and warpterror: Have to say that I didn't expect much of a response so thank you, thank you, thank you! And I've a story in my mind, and I will keep with this.

jonsnow: I hope I'm making at least a part of what you're saying clear; however, if we're looking at this from a historical comparison, what the Old Gods are to the Faith is what the Orthodox church in the Roman Empire was to the Catholic church in Rome during the earlier crusades. The Ironborn are more of a paganistic cult that the Faith allows to continue due to its relative isolation - in a way similar to that of Norse paganism by a slight stretch. Will this all stay true though, that's for the story to tell.

As always, leave a review, or comment, they mean a lot. But most importantly, enjoy the story. :)

_Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, etc from the universe of George R.R Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series or HBO's Game of Thrones. I write this for myself and the enjoyment of others._


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